How many does it take before you find your Prince?

The night before…

That’s right, this time tomorrow night I shall be decked out in my Cruella Deville finery, slapping asses and taking names! Or at the very least getting my own ass slapped 😉

I’m filled with a sticky moist clump of feelings that threaten to overwhelm me and pull me down into their mucky mess. (Who knows, I might like that!) I feel excited, nervous and of course, violently turned on. But what to expect? What if for once I am the virgin in the room? Will I be thrust back into my awkward teenage years, with the thought of even a knee grasp sending me into spasms of terror? Luckily in this instance I have the glorious advantage of being drinking age and can get a little (or a lot) of dutch courage going before I take the plunge.

But fear not Lovers, I will remain coherent and lucid the entire night so I can absorb every minute detail of this sordid affair. I will put my nose to the slightly sticky grindstone and do the hard yards for your reading pleasure. But I still can’t help thinking, have I done enough? Sure the costume is complete, (looking bloody delicious if I do say so myself. I will feel quite comfortable serving my own butt up on a plate it will look that tasty.) the nails only slightly bitten down and of course the wax has been… waxed. But should I have done more? Sure I got a brazillian, but should I have gotten an enema too? Should I have inquired after anal bleaching? Vajazzling? Sordid henna tattoos between the lips? What if I fart on someone like I almost did to the poor beauty therapist today? Hey nobody can judge until they’ve had their knees pulled up to their chest with someone tearing strips off their ass. She finished just in time I can tell you!

I suppose there’s nothing to do but take a big gulp of air that’s been watered down with vodka, and take the party between my knees and hump it into submission.

If you don’t hear from me again Lovers, it’s because I have seen what cannot be unseen and turned to a nunnery for shelter, or because I am still tied to a cross with a pirate taking great delight in plundering my treasure chest (because I draw the line at booty)